One Handful of Rice

Today I was looking through some India pictures and came across this snapshot of a boy named Stalin. He was in my English class when I taught at Dayanilayam two winters ago. He had the greatest smile and was always positive and attentive in class. He was shy, but came near and enjoyed hugs. Stalin wasn’t healthy and I reported that to the hostel. He fell asleep sitting up many times. His eyes were yellow, possibly with jaundice or malaria. Stalin hasn’t been at the hostel the last two times I visited. The boy’s warden said he was too ill to leave his home. I don’t even know if he has parents or brothers or sisters, but I loved that little boy. I pray for a miracle in his young life.